Smile
by OtherWeasleyTwins
Summary: A walk through all seven books from Draco's perspective. Minus the Epilogue, since we all know that didn't really happen. Spoilers for ALL SEVEN books. Harry/Draco slash.


**Title: **Smile

**Author: **Freddie

**Pairing/Character:** Harry/Draco

**Word Count:** 8,416

**Rating:** PG

**Genre:** Flangst

**Summary:** A walk through all seven books from Draco's perspective. (Minus the Epilogue, since we all know that didn't really happen.)

**Spoilers/Warnings:** Spoilers for ALL SEVEN books. Slashy.

**A/N:** So I call this the "Long One Shot." It started out as a drabble, then it grew... and grew...

**Disclaimer:** I sadly do not own Harry Potter.

* * *

The first thing Draco Malfoy noticed about Harry Potter was his smile. That day in the robe shop, he wasn't exactly bothered by the ever-present, almost wistful smile on the other boy's face. The emerald-eyed boy didn't talk much that day, and that suited Draco just fine. For the first time, he was free to share his excitement about going to Hogwarts, and his hope for being sorted into Slytherin without interruption. Yes, at that moment, he felt that he could eventually form a nice friendship with the other boy.

These ridiculous ideas were brought to a screeching halt a few days later on the Hogwarts Express. Harry Potter. He had been talking to _Harry Potter._ Well, that was okay. It would be even better to form a civil friendship with the Boy Who Lived.

When Draco saw him in the compartment, once again, the first thing he noticed was Harry's expression— his smile. Harry looked absolutely blissful; surrounded by sweets from the trolley and new friends; everyone completely happy. Draco wasn't really surprised by the sudden stab of jealously he felt. He pushed those thoughts aside, and extended his hand in friendship.

Weasley had laughed, and next thing Draco knew, the smile was gone. In its place was a look of total indignation. Harry rejected him without a second thought. _No one_ rejected a _Malfoy_. Surely Harry Potter would at least know that much. But Potter had been firm in his decision. Draco was completely embarrassed, of course, but Malfoys don't parade around with their emotions on their sleeves for all the world to see. So instead, he did the only thing he knew how to do in that situation: feign indifference.

Everything changed after that. The indifference shifted to rivalry; rivalry became skewed and took the shape of hatred. The only smile Potter directed at Draco was degrading. If Draco messed up, Potter would surely be there to laugh at him for it.

But every day, Draco would see just how happy Potter was when he thought no one was looking. His smile stayed plastered on his face, never once fading. He was obviously happier than he had ever been in his whole life now that he was at Hogwarts. Draco wondered about this sometimes, but he never put too much thought into it. Potter's emotions danced so clearly across his face that it was hard not to be completely absorbed by it. But, as it had always been since the day on the train, if Potter ever made eye contact with Draco, the smile would fade into a look of distaste.

The whole first year dragged on this way, each of them throwing insults for no reason at all. Potter making it on to the Gryffindor Quiddich team just made matters worse. He wasn't even a proper flyer, but somehow, he had managed to outshine Draco once again. This extra defeat was more than Draco could handle. Their relationship became even more tense, and the mere insults started to change into something a little more malicious.

Draco didn't have to wait too long before he saw the perfect chance for revenge. He happened to catch Potter, Mudblood, and the Weasel sneaking out to the giant oaf Hagrid's hut one night past curfew. He followed them, naturally, and was surprised to see the secret Hagrid was hiding: a baby dragon. Instead of instantly running off to report this illegal pet and get _everyone_ in trouble, he just had to pause for a moment. The smile was back, bigger than ever before. He simply couldn't force himself to turn away and head back inside. A small part of him was hoping that, someday, that smile would be directed at him.

Without warning, Potter glanced up, his eyes immediately landing on Draco. The smile turned to a scowl, and he immediately alerted the others. Draco knew better than to waste any more time standing around, and was back inside faster than he would have ever thought possible.

He told McGonagall all that he had seen and, as usual, his plan backfired. After all, he had been out past curfew as well. He, Potter, Mudblood, and the Weasel would all serve detention together. He didn't miss the mockery of a smile that flashed across Potter's face.

He couldn't believe the cruelty of fate. There he was, traipsing through the Forbidden Forest with Harry Potter. This time, both of them wore an identical scowl. Draco felt that the whole thing was a huge injustice, after all, he shouldn't have had detention to begin with. Besides that, he was absolutely terrified of the Forbidden Forest. Potter, on the other hand... well, Draco already knew the answer to that. Potter hated him, plain and simple.

Later on, people would start to say that it was Voldemort that Potter saw in the Forest. Draco hadn't stuck around long enough to know for sure, but if he had to guess, he would say the stories were completely true. Why Voldemort would be around Hogwarts, he didn't know. But one thing was certain: if Voldemort was truly as strong as his father had made him seem, there was no doubt he could return to power.

Draco didn't see much of Potter or his little fan club in the weeks that followed. He knew they were sneaking off, doing things they shouldn't be doing, but he never caught them in the act. In all honesty, he didn't try that hard. He already knew that Dumbledore had a soft spot for Potter, so no matter what, Potter would avoid major trouble. All he could do was imagine what sort of insane things they were up to... as if the sneaky smiles on their faces weren't dead giveaways of their wrong-doings.

It all happened so quickly after that. One day, everything was just fine. The next, Professor Quirrell was gone and everyone was singing Potter's praises. Leave it to Hogwarts to exalt the boy who murdered a teacher. But, oh, that _smile_. Draco knew right then that he wanted nothing more than to wipe that stupid smile off Potter's face forever.

Second year was considerably better. This time, Draco knew what he was up against, and with a little careful planning, he had ensured his victory over Potter. Moreover, he had finally gotten over his delusional ideas of befriending the Gryffindor. With those absurd thoughts out of his mind, he would finally be able to concentrate on completely humiliating Potter at every opportunity. Yes, second year would be a very good one indeed.

First of all, Draco managed (with a little bribery) to become Seeker for the Slytherin Quiddich team. Obviously, with his superior flying skills, he would quickly put Potter in his place. Quite possibly the best day of his magical education thus far had been the day Potter and his outcast friends found out about Draco's new position. To see that irritating smile fade, being replaced with total shock, then anger was just too perfect.

However, the first match between Slytherin and Gryffindor was a little disappointing. Draco blamed his failure on nerves. Next time, he would be better prepared. He was just distracted by the fact that he would soon be defeating his arch rival... that was all.

Fortunately, his disappointment didn't last too long. Somehow the Weasel managed to work himself into a rage for one reason or another, and attempted to hex Draco with a broken wand. The spell backfired, leaving the redhead to puke slugs for the rest of the day. Potter had thrown some lame insult at Draco, and that just added to the sweet taste of his revenge.

He didn't see the smile as much anymore after that, and he was happy to believe that he was the cause of it. Potter didn't deserve happiness. After all, the press was always hot on his trail— he even got to be in the paper with Gilderoy Lockhart! All because he was Harry Potter, The Boy Who Sodding Lived. Potter didn't even deserve his fame. He had been a baby when he supposedly "defeated" Voldemort; he didn't actually _do_ anything!

But, no matter. Draco was making sure that Potter was constantly miserable. He was certain that Potter couldn't even use his fame to get out of all the trouble Draco was causing.

That's why Draco decided to imply that he was behind the attacks when the Chamber of Secrets opened. The Potter Squad had no way of finding out whether or not he was the heir of Slytherin, but seeing them squirm in discomfort whenever he walked by was just too good to pass up. He constantly threw hints at them, making sure to keep the idea in their heads.

However, Potter had to get on his high horse again and play hero. Once again, the school bowed down to him when he courageously risked his life to save the She-Weasel from the Basilisk. Once again, that stupid, joyful smile returned to Potter's face, and it didn't look like it was going to disappear any time soon. Draco would have to change his tactics...

The stars were certainly on Draco's side. The summer before their third year, the murderer Sirius Black had escaped from Azkaban. He soon found out from his father that there would be an increase in security around Hogwarts. Dementors would be sent to patrol the grounds, keeping a watchful eye for the escaped prisoner. At the time, Draco didn't realize how useful this would really be in his mission to permanently remove Harry Potter's smile.

It wasn't until they were on the Hogwarts Express that he realized the Dementors' potential. About halfway through their journey, the train stopped abruptly, allowing Dementors to get onboard and search every compartment, looking for the murderer. The whole train had gone dark during that time, and Draco used this to his full advantage. His original plan was to sneak into Potter's compartment and scare him, but what he saw was something much more interesting. Just as he pulled the door open, he saw Potter collapse. There was a Dementor in the compartment as well. Apparently, just the sight of one was enough to scare Potter into unconsciousness.

Draco couldn't believe his luck. He quietly backed out of the compartment and headed back to his own, contemplating the best way to spread word around the school about what he had witnessed.

He took every opportunity after that to make fun of Potter's weakness. When he saw the other boy in the hallway or in class, he was sure to raise his voice and reenact what he had seen. Every time, he got the same reaction, but it never got old. Potter would flush in embarrassment and attempt to glare or snap a witty comeback, but he was always so flustered that he just ended up making a bigger fool of himself each time.

Draco knew that the other Slytherins were quickly getting bored with his constant mockery of Potter, but he just couldn't let it go. Finally, he had a way to humiliate Potter beyond words; a way to instantly make his smile melt into a look of complete humiliation and hurt. In the back of his mind, he wondered when he had decided that he really wanted to _hurt_ the other boy. He never dwelled on the thought.

He had been proud of his efforts up to that point. That is, until a certain Care of Magical Creatures lesson. Hagrid had decided to bring Hippogriffs to class that day, and as usual, Potter ended up stealing the spotlight. Draco didn't understand what the big deal was. _Anyone_ could approach those big, stupid birds and come out unscathed. Hagrid had just decided to make them sound terrifying, in order to boost Potter's ever growing ego.

So, Draco did the obvious: attempt to prove that what Potter had done was nothing special at all. He quickly approached the Hippogriff called Buckbeak, despite Hagrid's warnings. Next thing Draco knew, he was lying in a pool of his own blood, and his arm felt as if it were on fire. Certainly, he was dying.

Madame Pomphrey, bless her, somehow managed to save his life. But he couldn't resist getting as much attention as possible from his injury. Despite Pomphrey's best efforts, he insisted that his arm was still in terrible pain. This was quite beneficial to his plans as well, as Potter and Weasley were soon doing the grunt work in Potions class for him.

The rest of the year went by smoothly for Draco. He tried a few more pranks (all of them relating to Dementors in some way), and always received the desired results. He even managed to get Buckbeak to be sentenced to death for the unprovoked attack upon his person. Best of all, Potter didn't get involved in some huge plot to gain himself more fame. At least, not to Draco's knowledge.

Just as the year was drawing to a close, Potter's smile returned with full force. Whether it was because the Hippogriff somehow managed to escape certain death, or for some other absurd reason, Draco would never know. Actually, that smile had been so disgustingly carefree and happy that, if Draco didn't know better, he would have thought Potter had shagged someone good and proper. He had a good laugh at the thought.

He never saw Potter watching him.

Fourth year wasn't nearly as exciting for Draco. The first few months were completely uneventful, save for the usual snide remarks between himself and Potter. Potter's smile from the previous year still hadn't vanished. He looked hopeful, somehow. What a spoiled rotten prat like Potter could possibly have to hope for, Draco had no idea. But he knew he absolutely loathed the sight of it.

When the Triwizard Tournament had been announced, Draco had started to put two and two together. Somehow Potter must have known about the tournament in advance, as well. That's what he was looking forward to so desperately. Unfortunately for Potter, he couldn't enter until he was seventeen. Yet, for some reason, that announcement didn't make Potter's smile falter in the least.

Draco really shouldn't have been surprised when Potter's name came out of the Goblet of Fire. Perhaps that was the reason Potter had looked so hopeful... he had discovered a way to cross Dumbledore's age line. But, if that were true, why did he look so terribly disappointed?

There wasn't much Draco had to do to keep Potter from smiling (his best attempt being the "Potter Stinks" badges, which actually seemed to brighten Potter's day a little). Apparently the Weasel didn't know about Potter's plans, either, and they got into a huge row over the whole ordeal. That was enough to keep Draco happy for the time being. For once, Weasel was making himself useful. Who would have thought such a thing could be possible?

The first task was finally upon them. Dragons— big surprise there. Draco couldn't wait to see Harry running around screaming, desperately trying to save his arse. He waited in anticipation for Potter to finally appear in the arena. When he did, Draco had to say he was disappointed. Potter conquered the Horntail in a matter of minutes, only receiving a small cut across the shoulder for his efforts. And when did Potter learn that impressive summoning charm, anyway? No, not impressive. Definitely not.

The only bright side to the whole Triwizard nonsense was the Yule Ball. But it wasn't his date, Pansy, or the socializing that entertained Draco the most. He just couldn't bring himself to look away from Potter's and Weasel's horrendous dress robes. And their dates? The Patil twins. Pathetic. The two boys barely acknowledged the Patils during the whole ball.

Every now and then, Draco would glance up while dancing with Pansy to survey the room. Each time, he caught Potter staring directly at him. It was unnerving, yes, but he desperately tried to pretend that he never noticed. However, he couldn't keep himself from looking in Potter's direction. It was as if he expected to get all the answers just by taking another look...

The second task was closing in quickly. This time, Draco had no idea what it could possibly be. The night before the task, he had been approached by Dumbledore. He asked Draco if he would be willing to volunteer to help with a small aspect of the task. He refused to give Draco any information other than mention that there would be quite a bit of water involved. Draco quickly declined, his fear of water keeping him from taking an opportunity that he could possibly use to humiliate Potter once again. He didn't bother thinking about the offer again as he headed off to bed.

He was completely disgusted by Potter's heroics after the task. He couldn't believe Potter would give up victory just to try to rescue everyone. But, even after managing second place, Potter's smile still looked hollow and empty. Draco scoffed and retreated to the castle. Of course Potter couldn't lower himself to be happy with second place.

Draco didn't see Potter very much during the time between the second and third tasks. The few times he did see the other boy, he noticed that Potter looked to be getting a little more stressed, his smile becoming more strained and forced. Draco caught himself wondering what caused this sudden mood swing, but quickly pushed the thoughts away. It didn't matter what the cause was, just as long as Potter was completely distressed.

The day of the third task had finally arrived, and Potter was looking more stressed than ever. Draco almost felt a little pity mixed in with his hatred. _Almost._ What was bothering him most at the moment was the fact that he would be completely unable to see what was going on inside the maze during the task. He wondered why he even bothered to show up. He had better things to do in his spare time, and none of them involved staring at a hedge maze.

But when all four champions had finally entered the maze, Draco was left to do just that. He stared blankly at the maze, trying to make out patterns in the leaves. He was completely and utterly bored out of his mind. The only excitement was when a flair of red sparks went shooting into the sky. Fleur was quickly escorted out of the maze.

Hours seemed to pass before Potter and Diggory finally reappeared. The stadium erupted with cheers and applause, but Draco immediately noticed that something was terribly, terribly wrong. Potter's smile was long gone, and he had such a look of anguish on his face that it was hard to believe he was even capable of smiling at all.

That's when the screaming started. Cedric Diggory was dead.

Despite many students' preconceived ideas about Draco, he was not a completely heartless bastard. He, too, felt the pain that came with Cedric's death. He just had a different way of coping with things like this. So instead of openly mourning as everyone else did, he did the only thing he felt comfortable enough to do: insult Potter. He knew if he rubbed the death in Potter's face, made him feel even more guilty for what had happened, Draco would start to feel better. It was faulty logic at best, but he didn't know what else to do.

Being hexed on the train didn't really ease his suffering.

The change in Harry between fourth and fifth year was hard not to notice. Suddenly, the Golden Boy looked completely and irrevocably depressed. At first, Draco had been certain that it was because of all of the bad press in the _Prophet _that got Potter so upset. After all, a ruined reputation was nothing to smile about.

But as the year dragged on, he began to wonder if that was really the case. He knew that Potter stood up to Umbridge -everyone knew that- arguing that Voldemort had truly returned, that Cedric Diggory's death was not an accident. Maybe it wasn't the press. Maybe it was the fact that no one believed him, when the truth was staring them directly in the face.

Of course Draco knew the truth, but he had to do what was expected of him. Besides, to admit the truth would be to join Harry Potter, and that was something he could not afford to do.

So, instead of getting up to his usual mischief, Draco decided to simply watch. He watched as Potter drifted through day to day life, simply going through the motions. The smiles were few and far between, each one more fake than the last. Draco was a little concerned by the fact that he was the only one who seemed to notice. The smiles appeased the fans, kept up the moral. As long as Potter could still force a smile, the rest of the Wizarding world could still live happily.

To his surprise, Draco found himself missing Potter's smiles. His _real_ smiles. They had become a constant in Draco's life. When he saw Potter smiling, he knew everything was okay. He wondered what he could do to bring them back.

He knew he was wrong in following through the Inquisitorial Squad's plans of capturing Dumbledore's Army. But what could he do? Certainly not refuse. For the first time in his life, he found himself truly wanting to apologize. He himself snuffed out the last ray of hope in Potter's life. The look on Potter's face when they all had been caught was almost too much for Draco to bear. He promised himself he would leave Potter alone from that moment on.

And he did. He knew Potter's little friends would play some clever trick to escape from Umbridge's clutches after Potter and Mudblood left. He let it happen. Hopefully it would make up for his foolishness.

That night, for the first time in his life, Draco cried himself to sleep— thinking about Harry Potter.

The summer between fifth and sixth year was one of the hardest summers of Draco's life. Voldemort had finally taken notice of the young Malfoy and quickly branded him as a Death Eater. The pain and the guilt that came with that mark was unbearable. He didn't want it, he didn't want most of the things in his life, but he was never in a position to refuse.

He found himself clinging to the faded memory of Harry Potter's smile through his suffering. The smile had become a beacon of hope, not just for the Wizarding world, but now for Draco as well. He would have been disgusted by that, if it weren't so very, very true.

When Voldemort assigned him the task of killing Dumbledore, Draco thought his whole world was going to explode. He felt sick, scared, and for the first time, trapped. He hated it. He was never meant to be controlled by anyone, yet without noticing it, he had become the Dark Lord's little pet.

That night he realized he had forgotten what Harry's smile looked like.

He might have killed himself if he weren't so afraid of death.

Draco did his best to avoid Harry on the Hogwarts Express. He didn't even want to look at the other boy anymore. He couldn't— not with the guilt of his task weighing him down. But somehow, it seemed Harry had already begun to suspect something.

Draco knew the exact moment Harry entered his compartment on the train under his Invisibility Cloak. He didn't bother to mention the Gryffindor's presence to the other Slytherins. Instead, he tried to drop a few hints as to what he had to do. He wanted Harry to suspect he was a Death Eater, he wanted him to know that he had an important task to complete for Voldemort. He would have to be cruel to Harry one more time, all in hope of getting Harry to stop him before it was too late.

He felt awful about leaving Harry on the train with a bloody, broken nose. But he knew it had to be done. Now Harry would suspect him, now Harry would put an end to Draco's personal hell.

He avoided Harry at all costs, working himself to the brink of insanity trying to repair the Vanishing Cabinet. But now, Harry seemed to be following him around. He supposed it was to be expected, and did his best to pretend he didn't notice. Maybe Harry would figure out where he was going, and destroy the cabinet. That was all he could hope for now.

He tried several times to lure Harry to the Room of Requirement. He knew Harry would find a way in as soon as he figured out where to go. Besides, how hard could it possibly be to come up with "a place to hide things?"

Apparently that was a little too difficult for Harry.

Why couldn't the Saviour of the Wizarding World have been a Ravenclaw?

On the bright side, the thrill of the chase was slowly bringing a smile back to Harry's face. He finally seemed to be involved in life again, now that he had something to pursue and work towards. A sudden warmth fluttered through his chest every time he saw that smile, knowing it was for him.

It may not have been the usual, blissful smile. This one was more predatory, and a little enthusiastic. Draco knew it was because Harry hoped that he would finally catch the blond doing something wrong— something to prove he was working for Voldemort.

Draco had been doing so well at hiding his emotions. No one suspected anything... no one except Harry, just as Draco had planned. He should have known it would be a mistake to take his problems to Moaning Myrtle. But who else could he confide in?

Talking to her really helped him at first. He finally felt he could make it through the year if he didn't have to keep his problems bottled up inside. But all of that changed the day he glanced into the mirror and saw Harry staring back at him, half hidden in the doorway. For the first time, Draco found he couldn't read the other boy's expression at all. Harry looked just as likely to comfort Draco as to mock him.

Draco was never known for taking chances.

They started throwing spells at one another, each spell more vicious than the last. Draco -thoroughly embarrassed and quite irritated- finally saw that their duel was going no where and prepared to cast the Cruciatus curse on Harry.

He only managed to say half of the curse before Harry countered with a curse Draco had never heard of: Sectumsempra. The last thing he could remember was blood and pain... and maybe, just maybe, the sound of someone apologizing profusely.

Time seemed to fly by unnoticed, during which he somehow he managed to complete the Vanishing Cabinet. Next thing Draco was fully aware of was standing on top of the Astronomy Tower, his wand pointed at Dumbledore. Dumbledore had spoken such kind, forgiving words to Draco, but nothing could possibly calm him. He was scared. Too scared to kill Dumbledore, yet too scared to turn his back on his task.

He was almost convinced, already lowering his wand, when the other Death Eaters appeared. The rest was a blur. Death Eaters, Snape, Dumbledore begging for his life, death... If Snape hadn't forced him to leave, he might have fainted. They fled into the darkness, Harry coming out of no where to pursue them.

Draco truly hoped Harry was trying to rescue him, as if Harry mysteriously knew that Draco didn't want any of this. But of course, there was no way Harry could possibly be aware of that. The only thing he wanted was to seek his revenge on Snape. Draco knew, in that moment, he really meant absolutely nothing to Harry. That alone was enough to make him give up. Why resist Voldemort if there was no hope of ever escaping?

Draco was just a hollow shell— a mere shadow of his former self. He no longer cared about anything. His life was based on a simple principle: obey Voldemort, and he and his family could live another day. If it had just been his own life at stake, Draco probably would have turned his back on Voldemort long ago. But he just couldn't let his family suffer because of his own weakness. He would get used to torturing people, surely. Watching them die was easy, but when Voldemort had Draco cast the Unforgivables... well, it wasn't something he liked to think about.

He simply wasn't good enough. That was the hardest part to accept. He had fallen so far that even Harry Potter -the boy who would give up victory to save people he had no business saving- didn't even think about coming to his aid.

But what he wouldn't give to see Harry again...

It seemed like an eternity since he had last seen Harry's smile. He would feel so much better if he could catch a glimpse of it, just once more. But it seemed Harry had vanished off the face of the earth. Obviously, he was still alive— Voldemort would know if he had died. But either way, Draco couldn't benefit from it. Harry had fled, for all Draco knew. So much for the "Chosen One."

It was on a particularly dismal day that Draco finally, _finally_ got to see Harry again. Harry, Mudblood, and Weasel had all been captured and brought back to the Manor. Harry's face was disguised hideously, but Draco would still recognize him anywhere. His heart soared. It wasn't until that moment that he became aware that he even had a heart anymore. For all he knew, it had stopped beating long ago.

The joy seemed to fade when he was asked to identify this disfigured face as Harry Potter's. He knew he would have to tell the truth... everyone would know if he lied. He opened his mouth to confirm Harry's identity, but different words came out on their own accord: "I can't — I can't be sure."

He lied again for the Mudblood, and once again for the Weasel. But in all honesty, he didn't exactly care about what happened to them. Everything he did was for Harry's sake.

Harry and the Weasel were quickly escorted to the dungeon while the Mudblood— no, while _Granger_ was left for "questioning." For the first time, Draco found himself wishing that he could have been the one to attempt to get answers from her. Not because he wanted to torture her, not by any means. He would have been careful, it would have been okay... she wouldn't have to suffer at the hands of Bellatrix. No one deserved that.

He knew as soon as he heard the loud _crack_ from beneath them that Harry had found a way to escape the dungeon. He could only hope that they would make it upstairs in time... before Granger lost her mind like the Longbottoms had.

Draco was certain they had waited too late when Bellatrix finally gave Greyback the permission to take Granger. But as soon as the words left her mouth, the Weasel came bursting into the room, and all hell broke loose. As usual, all of them managed to escape, even though it seemed impossible. Draco couldn't believe they left him behind; that the only part of him worth taking with them was his wand. He tried so many ways to justify what they had done, but he couldn't get over his depression. His last hope for escape had vanished, along with his last defense.

Couldn't Harry see that he was on their side?

Draco didn't cry this time. He ran out of tears a long time ago.

He wasn't sure if a few days or several years had passed before he finally returned to Hogwarts. He met up with Crabbe and Goyle again, but he was hardly happy to see them. Nothing really made him happy anymore. Everything was strictly business.

They had hidden themselves in a corridor, but what they were waiting for, Draco had no idea. But it didn't matter really, because soon enough, Harry, Granger, and Weasel had all shown up. Harry looked just as depressed as Draco felt.

More than anything, Draco wanted to make his presence known, but he knew it wouldn't do any good. So he waited silently, watching them discuss something about a diadem, then all three of them entered the Room of Requirement.

Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle followed them in. They silently followed Harry through all of the junk, waiting for the opportune moment. That moment came when Harry apparently found what he had been looking for. Draco watched as Harry reached out his hand, a small hopeful smile appearing on his face. It was a shame to bring that to an end.

The Slytherins revealed themselves, and before Draco could do anything about it, another fight broke out. He was sick of all the fighting, he really was, so he tried his best to keep out of it. That is, until he saw that Crabbe fully intended to finish off Harry right then. He couldn't do anything but try to talk sense into him, since Harry had Draco's original wand and Draco's borrowed wand had just gotten lost. As usual, Crabbe refused to listen to reason, and Draco began to panic. He couldn't have come this far, just to lose Harry to _Crabbe_.

All he could do was scream, "Don't kill him! _Don't kill him!_"

Whether it was the desperation his voice that caused Crabbe and Goyle to hesitate or something else entirely, it gave Harry the time to disarm Goyle. Draco might have imagined it, but he could have sworn that Harry shot a small, grateful smile his way. The smile vanished almost as soon as it had appeared, however, since Crabbe once again did something incredibly stupid.

The room was quickly being engulfed in flames that Crabbe had absolutely no control over. Draco lost sight of Crabbe in all the commotion, but tried as hard as he could to pull the Stunned Goyle to safety. But all he managed to do was get them cornered on a tower of charred desks. He no longer knew where Harry was, the room was filling with smoke, he could barely breathe...

They were going to die. Draco had no doubt about it. He was scared, so scared, all rational thought had left him long ago. He let out a small, desperate scream. He knew no one would be around to hear it. He knew, he knew...

That's when he saw Harry diving towards him. Draco was almost certain this was an illusion... why would Harry waste his time coming back for someone like him? On pure instinct alone, he raised an arm, reaching for Harry, not wanting this beautiful illusion of hope to fade away.

When Harry's hand hit his, it was as if everything in his life clicked back into place. The desperation, the fear, the timeless apathy; it all seemed to fade away with that strong hand grasping his own. Their hands slipped apart -due to the sweat and Goyle's added weight- and the Weasel was screaming something at Harry... He was sure Harry would turn around and leave him now. Leave him to burn to death, like he deserved.

Instead, Granger and the Weasel pulled Goyle onto their broom and took off. Harry quickly helped Draco on to his broom, and all Draco could do was cling to Harry and scream. It was a strange feeling— he was terrified, yet at the same time, he had never felt more secure before in his life. He was holding onto Harry so tightly that he was probably crushing him, but Harry never once protested.

That was all Draco had ever wanted in his life. Someone who would let him hold on too tight, someone who would let him scream and cry and never once judge him for his weakness. He had never noticed it until that moment, but from the very beginning, Harry had been all of those things.

He wondered if Harry needed this just as badly as he did. It was no secret that Harry had lost so many people that he cared about. Did he find comfort in the fact that someone wanted -_needed_- to hold onto him and never let go?

Both of them had suffered so much throughout their lives. With each loss, and with each disappointment, they lost a part of themselves. They were like two pieces of glass— fragile, broken, but never shattered. They completed each other. Their sharp, jagged edges seemed to line up perfectly.

He buried his face in Harry's back, biting back a smile.

The beautiful illusion was broken as soon as they crashed back into the corridor. The shock of losing Crabbe hit Draco fully, and all he could do was lay there and choke out his name. He didn't have too long to mourn, however. Bangs filled the corridor again, as well as the sound of screams. The war still raged.

Draco finally managed to pull himself to his feet and made his way back to the Death Eaters. If he were lucky, they wouldn't have noticed his disappearance. However, the first Death Eater he crashed in to looked ready to start casting Unforgivables at him.

"I'm Draco Malfoy," he pleaded. "I'm Draco, I'm on your side!" He knew his name wouldn't make a difference to the masked Death Eater. The Malfoy name meant nothing anymore. His life was already in danger for the second time in a row.

Before the Death Eater could voice a response, a Stunning spell came out of no where. Draco had never been so relieved. A smile spread across his face before he could stop it, and he realized that it was quite possibly the first real smile that he had ever shown in public. Then, an invisible force knocked Draco off his feet and shouted at him with the voice of the Weasel.

It seemed Harry had saved him once again.

The battle continued for what felt like an eternity. Draco hadn't seen Harry since they parted in the corridor, and he was mildly concerned about that. But he knew Harry was okay. Harry was always okay. That's when Voldemort's voice echoed throughout the castle, speaking the words Draco dreaded the most:

"Harry Potter is dead."

Draco couldn't focus on anything else Voldemort said after that, or anything else that was going on around him. His whole world seemed to come crashing down around him, and all he could do was stand there, frozen in horror. He felt sick, so terribly, terribly sick. He hoped he would faint, at least that would get rid of that horrible, hollow feeling deep inside of him.

Harry Potter had been his world, his obsession since he was eleven years old. Everything he did was for Harry, whether he realized it or not. He had nothing left. What could he possibly do with himself now? He wanted to cry, but the tears wouldn't come. He wanted to scream, but he didn't even know if his voice worked any more.

He blindly followed the crowds of students, teachers, and Death Eaters, all going to stare at Harry's body as if it were some fascinating art piece.

As soon as he saw Harry resting in Hagrid's arms, he knew it was true. Somehow Harry had always managed to make it through everything just fine, but not this time. He was gone, dead, and he was never coming back. No magic could bring someone back to life.

Draco unknowingly let out a strangled, dry sob, and collapsed to his knees, hidden behind the crowd.

Harry would never smile again.

So much happened in that brief span of time. Draco heard someone -Neville, presumably- challenge Voldemort. The giants all started fighting each other, Nagini was decapitated, and everyone started screaming for Harry. Draco jumped back to his feet, struggling to see. Indeed, Harry had disappeared.

Everyone was fighting again. Why? Draco didn't know, nor did he care. Someone had apparently dragged Harry's body away in the commotion, and who knows what kind of terrible things they were doing to it? Harry couldn't even be left alone in death... Draco felt a surge of pity for Harry, finally realizing that all of this time, Harry hadn't wanted fame or attention. He wanted to be left alone, so he could be an ordinary Wizard. Tears stung at the corners of his eyes, but they still refused to fall.

Draco was broken out of his trance when he heard the screams of, "_He's alive!_" He quickly made his way back into the crowd, shoving people out of his way to get a better look. Sure enough, there stood Harry, facing Voldemort. He was surprised to see Harry smiling, as if he somehow had the upper hand. How could he? Voldemort had the Elder Wand, and all Harry had was... Draco's.

That's when he realized Harry had said his name. "_The true master of the Elder Wand was Draco Malfoy_." Draco couldn't suppress the shiver that coursed through his body. He managed to help Harry after all. By allowing Harry to overpower him, he had ensured Harry's victory.

And thus, Voldemort was killed, with Draco's wand. Draco almost felt as if he were right there with Harry, fighting beside him. He had always taken great pride in his wand, and now it had done the greatest thing it could possibly do: help Harry.

The smile on Harry's face was the most beautiful smile Draco had ever seen.

* * *

Harry left Gryffindor Tower feeling slightly disappointed. After all of the stress of the day, all he wanted was to be alone for a while. Unfortunately, all of his dorm mates wanted to hear him tell the story of dying and coming back, and what he felt when he was fighting Voldemort. Honestly, he knew he should be flattered by their interest, but he just needed some time to himself. They just couldn't understand what he was feeling.

He walked aimlessly through the now empty halls. He stepped carefully around debris, wondering when someone would finally get around to cleaning it up. He didn't realize where he was headed until he stepped into the deserted Great Hall.

Glancing around, Harry started to make his way towards the Gryffindor table, but quickly changed his mind. Sitting at a huge table all alone would just be too lonely. He looked up at the High Table, and after a moment's consideration, decided it would be the perfect place to hide for a while. He would just tuck himself away behind Dumbledore's chair... no one would ever think to look for him there.

He quickly made his way up to the table, and just as he circled the chair, he was surprised to find someone else already hiding in that spot. Draco Malfoy. He had his legs pulled up tightly against him, and his head was resting wearily on his knees. He didn't seem to be aware of Harry's presence at all. Harry started to leave him alone, but he had to at least make sure he was alright first.

"Malfoy?" Harry asked gently.

Draco grunted, but otherwise didn't respond.

"Hey," Harry said, sliding down the wall to sit down next to him. "Are you okay?"

Draco finally turned his head to the side so he could see Harry. When he realized who was talking to him, he slowly lifted his head up and rested it against the wall. "I should be asking you the same thing,"

"Please don't, I'm tired of hearing it."

"I'm sure you are..." For once, Draco's voice contained no hint of sarcasm.

"So what are you doing back here?" Harry asked, absently picking at a spot on the floor.

"Hiding,"

"Same here,"

"Too many questions?"

Harry nodded and smiled. He should have known that if anyone would understand him, Draco would. Somehow, it felt as if they were so much closer after all that had happened. He no longer saw Draco as the mean, pointy-faced git. Draco was brave and kind; noble enough to be a Gryffindor... but Harry would never say that bit out loud.

"You know, I— I never liked fighting with you." Harry said.

"Really? I thrived off of putting you down." There was nothing cruel in Draco's tone, it was merely an observation. Albeit a blunt one.

"Well, yeah. I felt that way, too... at first."

"What changed?"

"You... me... I don't know for sure."

"Oh,"

"Yeah," Harry trailed off, not knowing if Draco wanted him to continue or not. But for the first time all evening -or was it morning now?-, Harry was dying to talk. "First and second year, I would have loved to see you expelled."

Draco laughed, a brittle, hollow laugh, but a laugh all the same. "Best two years at Hogwarts,"

"The best?" Harry echoed.

Draco nodded. "Everything was so simple back then."

"For you, maybe."

"You, too. Compared to life now."

"I suppose," Harry sighed and closed his eyes. He could easily fall asleep right there.

"Third year was fun... with the Dementors." Harry could just hear the smirk in Draco's voice.

"Shove it, Malfoy." His words held no malice. "I liked fourth year."

Draco made a disgusted noise, like he had just been forced to eat something horrible and choked on it. "Fourth year? With the whole Triwizard Hoo-Ha?"

Harry couldn't hold back his laugh. He didn't know why he tried to at all. He had nothing to hide from Draco anymore. "I learned a lot about myself that year," He opened his eyes and looked over at Draco, who was finally looking close to normal. That was a relief. Harry wanted nothing more than to keep Draco in a good mood. Losing Crabbe must have been terribly hard on him...

"Oh, remember the Yule Ball?" Harry asked enthusiastically.

"How could I forget? Your hideous dress robes have been permanently branded into my mind."

"Is that so?"

"Quite. I still have nightmares about them from time to time."

Harry was surprised at how freely he could laugh with Draco. Even such simple small talk was brightening Harry's mood considerably. They sat in silence for a moment, looking around the deserted Hall. Memories from fourth year now invaded Harry's mind, and he couldn't help but imagine sitting in this very room with a few of the Weasleys before the third task.

"Mrs. Weasley said they brought out the green in my eyes." Harry said before he could stop himself.

"Oh. Oh, I see."

"What..?" Harry ventured, not sure if he wanted to know the answer or not.

"Maybe you got lucky," Draco drawled sarcastically. "Everyone might have been too distracted by your _vibrant_ eyes to notice the monstrosity you were wearing."

"Maybe." Harry wasn't too happy that Draco was insulting what Mrs. Weasley had purchased for him, but he wasn't in the mood to argue. Instead, he quickly changed the subject. "The second task was my favourite, I think."

"Which one was the second?"

"The one with the mermaids."

Draco laughed. He knew there was a reason he had blocked that task from memory. Stupid Gryffindor and his stupid heroics... "You know, I had the opportunity to humiliate you during that task."

"Really?" Harry asked, intrigued. "How so?"

Draco shrugged. "Dumbledore asked me if I wanted to volunteer my services. I don't know what he wanted me to do, but I'm sure I could have found a way to use it against you." He sighed over dramatically. "I had to, regretfully, decline. Such a golden opportunity gone to waste..."

Harry couldn't hide the smile that crept onto his face. "It finally makes sense..."

"What does?"

"No wonder Dumbledore asked you first..." Harry mused, gazing up at the enchanted ceiling. "He knew you would hate being put in such a position in front of the whole school."

"What the hell are you on about, Potter?"

Harry turned his attention back to Draco. "Don't you see? You were going to be the valuable thing that was stolen from me."

Draco let out a cold laugh. "Well, well, Potter. I didn't know you felt that way. You should have asked me to the Ball."

"Not like that, stupid." He shifted his weight slightly, nudging Draco playfully with his shoulder. "No, it was in fourth year that I began to realize that you really were very important to me... in your own way. Even though I hated you, I knew that if you ever disappeared, nothing I did would have meaning anymore."

"Oh?" He was too distracted by Harry's shoulder still resting against his own to formulate a better response.

"Everything I did was an attempt to prove myself to you, really. Prove that I was better."

"Ah. Well, that makes sense." Draco felt himself relaxing, leaning almost unconsciously towards the warmth from Harry's shoulder. "I felt the same, you know."

"Did you?"

Draco nodded, but didn't say anything more.

That sat in silence again, leaning against each other, each of them completely content for the first time in their lives. While the silence was comfortable, Harry knew that there was more to be said. Regretfully, he broke the silence again. "Back in fifth year —"

Draco stiffened against him and snapped, "I really don't want to talk about fifth year."

"Why not?"

"I had enough of the angst-ridden, oh-so-broken saviour of the Wizarding world the first time around. I don't need to relive it again, thank you."

Harry sighed, defeated. "Why are you still doing this, Draco?"

"What?"

"You know what I mean."

"Do I?" For once, he honestly had no idea.

"You know, throwing random insults. Arguing over a past that neither of us can change."

"Oh, isn't it obvious?" Harry shook his head and Draco continued. "This is the way it's been from day one. We hate each other, Potter."

"No," Harry said gently, wrapping his arm around Draco's waist to pull him closer. That smile Draco had grown so fond of was slowly returning to his face. "All the hate I had ever felt towards you died on the day I first saw your smile."

Fin.


End file.
